Talk talk talk

"Sometimes when I'm talking, my words can't keep up with my thoughts. I wonder why we think faster than we speak. Probably so we can think twice" ~ Bill Watterson

My dearest E.,

You talk! Terribly adult-like. You form funny little sentences. You learn funny new words. Your voice is tiny and cute, just like a baby's should be. Sometimes you talk and talk, and I don't understand what you say. You nod and say "OK", "Alright!". Sometimes you say the bad F-word, or something you say "Shit" but we pretend we don't hear you, and then we fervently pray that you won't repeat it. You're like a sponge, absorbing things around you at a pace that I cannot keep up with.

You pay me compliments. You told me, "Nice, Mummy," when I put on a new red blouse for work. And smoothed the front of my blouse as you leaned into me to kiss my cheek. You wag your finger at me and say "Shame, shame!" when I undress in front of you. You tell me what you want: books, TV, your milk, food, TOYS. You love your toys and books. You want me to read to you all the time. And you talk and talk when I do.

You are ever SO precious. I don't care if you talk and talk and talk and never stop.

Being Busy

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans" ~ John Lennon

My dearest E.,

Yes. Life has indeed happened to me. In the times that I've been busy of late, I've experienced great work stress: great but strangely fulfilling, leaving me with the notion that I am somewhat important to my work organization. I've experienced illness and recuperation. I've experienced a little free time. I've had the opportunity to plan and celebrate your birthday with your little friends and our loved ones. Yes, E., you are now the grand old age of 2 years!

What a wonderful fun birthday party we had for you. Friends and family crammed our tidy little house (which wasn't so tidy after the party), a 40-odd-strong crowd whom I had to cook for (yes, cook! All by myself!). There were balloons and gifts, laughter and merriment. I put on your sweet indigo & red sailor dress for you, you looked a dream. And you were a gracious host, sharing your toys and happiness with your other little friends. I was a flurried host, making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink, entertaining our guests as they thronged at our gates and flooded our tiny living room. It was raining, but it couldn't be more perfect. And at the end of the night, when our guests had gone home, I sighed contentedly and dragged myself to bed, tired out with the events of the day.

Did I have any idea then that a dark event would overshadow our happy celebrations? Of course I didn't, but it was a sign of things to come when you fell ill the very next day, vomiting and purging. You spiked a high fever, sending the alarm bells in my head ringing, and your father and I frantically rushed you to the nearest paediatric clinic we could find open on a Sunday morning. The diagnosis: you had a stomach virus, a rather nasty one which had been making its way around our abode and general public, infecting people like a nasty plague. It was no coincidence that both your father and I had suffered a bout of it the previous week, and that at the time you fell sick, your uncle, my brother, had been hospitalized for the same illness. It came to my knowledge that many more people we knew had suffered the same illness quite recently.

My heart bled as you grew weaker, your cries louder, your need for comfort greater. You were small and tiny, your body hot to the touch, your cheeks flushed with the fever and illness ravaging your body. Your father and I rushed you to the hospital, and you were immediately admitted and placed on IV drips. Did I cry when you did, when the kind old doctor, who had not intended to hurt you, drew a line in your vein for the IV? Your father couldn't bear to look, but I did, and as you cried, I kissed and kissed your tears away, wishing that I could take away your pain. And in the hospital we spent for 3 long days.

Do you know what it feels like- to be helpless and watch your child suffer and cry from an illness? You were delirious in your sleep, whimpering for me, wanting to be close to me all the time. I stayed beside you, slept beside you, held you in my arms, all the time praying for your speedy recovery. The pain that hit me, and still lingers within my heart, to see you in that frail state, has not gone away. I suspect that it never will, because my eyes have been opened to your pain, emblazoned forever in my mind.

And so, this is life. When we are busy doing things, we live our lives. Good things and bad things happen to all of us. Your illness was a bad thing, possibly the worst thing that has happened to us. I am thankful that it has passed. But with it came a good thing: I know you're only a little girl, only 2 years old. But in your time of illness, you knew that I would be there for you, to love you and care for you. I hope you will carry this knowledge with you for the rest of your life.

Of drugs & such

"In the course of history many more people have died for their drink and their dope than have died for their religion or their country" ~ Aldous Huxley

My dearest E.,

I am not talking about the drugs that you take when you are ill, or the drugs you take to try to keep yourself healthy (like vitamins). Let us face the truth: that we live in an age of pills, prescription, legal or otherwise. And I need to tell you this because it is important that I do, that you value your life for what it is worth, because it is a wonderful life that has been given to you- and I hope that you never ruin what you have for an addiction to drugs or alcohol.

You don't want to know that your mother has done some bad things, but I will tell you this because you are my daughter and I owe this to you: that I was once addicted to nicotine. I smoked for several years when I left secondary school. I smoked throughout the whole of my 20s. I smoked for 12 years, until I got pregnant with you and stopped. And started again a few months after you were born. I am clean again now. And I hope to be for the remainder of my life.

Have I done drugs? Yes, I have. Marijuana. I was 18. And that was where I drew the line. I admit, had my resolve not been stronger, I may have ended up abusing even more illegal substances. I was able to stay grounded, because I thought of my parents, and how upset they'd be if anything happened to me, if I became a junkie, if I became an addict. I was a party girl, I had cool friends. I now know that no matter how cool my friends had been, how they told me I was cool, too, that it was ok to be doing drugs, they were wrong. It's never right to be using substances. And drugs are the worst, because they don't react the same with everybody. We're all special, we're individuals with different body systems. What is ok for someone may not be ok for you. Your body may react very differently.

Have I done alcohol? Sure, I have. I've had drinks, and I've got drunk heaps of times. I was young and carefree. I was never an alcoholic, though. And I always remembered my father telling me not to drink and drive. It's very important. Even though I knew my father would beat the living daylights out of me for leaving my car in a strange place overnight, I got a sober friend to send me home once when I knew I had drunk too much to drive carefully. Now I have the occasional glass of wine, a shot of whiskey, some beer. On special occasions. I don't like alcohol much these days. I'd like to think it's because I'm growing more mature, and perhaps, more responsible? And I ALWAYS watched my drinks, whether I was in a club or even if I was in the company of friends. Be very careful with your drinks.

I read a very sad, horrifying story in Readers' Digest, about a wonderful girl who was fun, loving and popular. Her parents, teachers and friends adored her. She had good grades, she was generous and kind, she was a good daughter who got along well with her parents, and she had friends she loved to hang out with. But she made a little mistake one day which cost her her life. She took an Ecstasy pill when her friend offered it to her. Perhaps she was thinking, it's only one little pill. And everyone said it made them feel good after they took it. That one pill killed her because her body could not take it. She died, and she was only 16 years old. I wanted to cry for her parents. And it scared me when I read that story, because that girl could be you someday. And for the life of me, I want to protect you forever, but I know that I can't. So, you must protect yourself.

I know, that when you are a teenager or young adult, growing up and finding out things about yourself, other people and the world, it can be a great challenge, and you find yourself confused about many things. But the world can be a beautiful place if only you allow it. Success will come to you if you work hard and allow it into your life. I hope this doesn't happen- but the likelihood that it will is almost a surety: that you will someday become secretive and sullen, and do not want to share your life with your parents. Your parents may seem annoying, over-protective, cloying. Nothing is ever good enough for them. You want to break free. You're growing up, you're not a baby anymore! You want to make your own decisions! I have been there, my sweet one. I have been in that place. And I realize now, that I needed to be there to become the person that I am today, and because I had been there, I am now more responsible and appreciative, loving and kind, and because I had been there, I know now how immense a parent's love is. It is a wonderful thing which surpasses everything in the world, I know this for a fact.

It was probably my parents' love for me, at the back of my mind, that kept me firm in my beliefs, in not giving in to extreme peer pressure (I did cave in to peer pressure, to a certain extent) and to do the things "all the kids were doing" in my time. Sex, drugs, rock & roll and all that jazz. I'm not perfect, I wasn't exactly Ms. Goody Two-Shoes. I was rebellious, but not so rebellious that I would've ruined my life.

It was also at this time that I realized, that the old adage about how children were exactly like their parents, or copied or imitated their parents by example, was far from the truth. My parents were good, exemplary people who showed me good examples, they were role models who taught me how to be a compassionate generous person, who showered me with love in the hopes that I would be a cheery, lovable person who would shower that love onto others. So where did they go wrong, if indeed it is true that children follow their parents by example? I cannot see a single thing that they have done wrong, except to give me everything I ever wanted. My parents did not teach me how to consume alcohol, or drugs. My parents did not teach me how to pick up a cigarette and smoke. My parents did not teach me how to have sex with a boy. So how did I learn all these....? I gave in to peer pressure.

I was nothing like my parents, I behaved like a shameless hussy, and I was ashamed, but only much later. Which also serves as a notice to me, my sweet E., that regardless of how I bring you up, that you may, someday be compelled to conform with your surroundings and your friends. And the only hope that I have for you, if that ever happens, is that you know where you stand, that you must judge the right from wrong, the docile from the extreme, and that you will always be careful and look out for yourself. And know, no matter how embarassed you are to explain to your mother that you'd had sex with a boy, or that you smoked a cigarette, your mother will forgive you and love you anyway, because she knows what you're talking about.

Your mother wants you to be a good, honourable person, to have the same values she was brought up with. Your mother knows that the teenage years and your early adult years can be trying, but that you will pass that phase and it will shape you into a better person if you would allow it to. Your mother wants you to be strong and firm in your beliefs, so that you will never ever have to doubt your worth as a person: know that you are special and wonderful, and if the people out there cannot see that simply because you want to hold on to your values and/or beliefs, then they are just not meant to be your friends or people deserving of your love.

Your mother wants you to know that she loves you unconditionally, and that if she ever shouts at you, or is angry at you, it is only because she loves you. And there is nothing to be ashamed about, ever, because you are your mother's daughter. You are special.

Even in adversity.....

.....you smile at me and say "Mummy" first thing in the morning, and kiss me on my lips.

.....you twirl your finger around your Snow White night-dress and pretend to do a little dignified dance.

.....you offer me your hugs and cuddles, you know I feel sad that you are ill.

.....you cry out, "Toys!" at the little toy store in the hospital.

.....you tell the hospital nurse, "Ok! Ok! Ok!" and you cry a little, after she pushes in a suppository to make your fever go down.

.....you are brave and clever and such a good girl, I love you so, and I am sorry that you are ill.

Walking and talking

"Sometimes I forget I have ears and then my hands go up there and I'm like "hey what are those!"" ~ Baby Bob from the TV Series, Baby Bob (2002-2003)

My dearest E.,

I like to watch you, walking and talking. Sometimes, you look like a cute little walking doll, fixed in her focus, inert on talking, forming words in your mouth, testing them and rolling them off your tongue. I have to admit- sometimes I don't understand what you're saying, even though you're talking to me, oh-so-earnestly, with your eyes lit up and your head nodding. And I pretend like I understand, until I realize that you intend for me to do something for you, and I have no idea what it is. Then you scowl at me, but laugh after that, and move on to something else to talk about.

You talk the moment you wake up in the morning, hair all messed-up and puffy. But you smile at me and say "Hi!" first thing in the morning. I'm still amazed that you rarely cry when you wake up in the morning. You just look so happy to be awake. And then I go about brushing my teeth, brushing your teeth and washing your face. And then I take my morning shower, with the door open so that I can watch you, and you talk and talk, playing with your soft toys, or with things fished out from my handbag.

You sing Baa Baa Black Sheep quite well now, although sometimes you have a little problem pronouncing words. But that's all ok, little babe. You will learn as you grow older. You like Row Row Row Your Boat, too, and This Old Man. Sometimes, you hum when you don't know the words, or what sounds like the correct words. You're such a musical baby, oh, I forget, you will be 2 very soon. No longer a baby. A toddler. A little girl.

You talk all the time. You never stop. You're always busy, talking and walking and doing things around the house. I love watching you do this. I could watch you all day.... But I remember that I have to talk back to you, too, otherwise it'd be rude, because you're talking to me, and all I can do is stare at you with a silly smile and contented happiness in my heart.

The sight of you

"Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart" ~ Kahlil Gibran

My dearest E.,

Yesterday, I laid eyes on you after 2 whole days of solitude and loneliness without your presence, your wonderful smile, your kindly eyes. I was at an event organized by the senior partner in my office- and your father was to pick you up and bring you to meet me there. The sight of you, it took my breath away, my heart was full with emotions. When I glimpsed you sitting in your stroller, your father standing behind you, my heart melted and I wanted to run to you and shout with joy.

Run, I did- but I was dignified enough to hold you close to me, breathe in your scent deeply and kiss you incessantly. And when you hugged me, your arms around my neck, I wanted to cry for joy, that you were home with us. And I lifted you up, into my arms where you belonged.

The light of beauty in your heart- which shines through and is magnified a thousand times on your physicality: that is what I missed most when you were away. If I could have things my way, all my way, I would never want you to be apart from me, ever again.

And we walked together, mother and daughter, and I found myself walking taller, prouder, that my beautiful, sweet little babe was walking beside me, charming strangers, smiling coyly, well-behaved. Pretty as a picture. My baby.

Your birthday is coming!

"Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time" ~ Jean Paul Richter

My dearest E.,

It is now August, and I am very excited, because your birthday draws nearer (it is in October), and I can't wait to start planning for a little party for you!

We threw a big party last year when you turned 1, with much fanfare, expense and with many guests. How long ago that seemed-you were so much smaller and you could barely walk. This year, for your 2nd birthday, your father and I have decided on a small, intimate affair: a party at our home, with home-made decorations and food: yes, I will cook and prepare a scrumptious meal for your guests!

When you come to my age, birthdays are no longer a big deal: age is just a number. But when you are a child, make the most of your birthdays and parties, because it will be the most wonderful times you will remember when you are an adult.